A Story in Hyrule City
by Randall Good
Summary: Post TP. Link returns to work with the Adventurer's Guild after a failed attempt at rural life, remaining troubled by much regret both for what he did and did not do. The story is slow-moving and intended to focus on characters. Please Read and Review.
1. Chapter 1

**Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Zelda or any other creative properties that Nintendo would contest are theirs. That which they wouldn't, I claim as my own for whatever good it will do me.**

Creative Disclaimer: This story is post Twilight Princess and should be entirely canon. There are some minor changes to mechanics regarding the setting, including perhaps an alternative interpretation. The only thing of relevance for now is the world is larger than it would have seemed in-game. Specifically, it would take something like a week on horseback to travel between Ordon and Hyrule Castle. In this larger universe, there are many settlements and townships that were not featured in the game. Don't worry, though, as these new locations will not surpass in importance or relevance those given to us by Nintendo. Also, Castle Town is much larger, containing a much more vibrant and diverse set of urban circumstances. It is also referred to instead as Hyrule City.

Though the creation of new characters is virtually inevitable in order to create a plot, I endeavor to maintain a story centralized around the character's created by Nintendo. I hope that in doing this I may contribute to those who look for Zelda fanfiction that develops the characters that they are already familiar with and have come to enjoy.

Also, though there is violence which I reserve the right to describe as graphically as I please, as well as allusions to adult themes, the story moves at a relatively slow pace in regards to such "exciting" literary elements. Considering the seemingly arbitrary rating system, I rate this T for now. If there is a reason it should not be, please let me know.

Lastly, this is my first fanfiction and I do invite commentary and criticism. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

"Twenty rupees" the Ordonian merchant demanded. He stood beneath the shade of the tarp that covered his vending stand. Though operating out of the market in Hyrule City selling various produce from Ordon, he retained his Ordonian dress. His easygoing rural demeanor, however, had since been replaced by the blunt and dissatisfied antagonism of the inhabitants of the city where he now lived.

"Twenty rupees? For a measly bottle of seedspit?" Link asked, not just a little outraged. It was an exorbitant price for pumpkinwine (or seedspit as it was sometimes crudely called in Ordon), a drink that Link could find for next to nothing back home. "Fifteen then, for a countryman?" Link put on a sort of smile, attempting to appeal to sentiments of kith.

"Countryman? I haven't been home in over five years, but I still can't recall us Ordonians having ears so pointed." Link's face visibly grimaced as remembered his Hylian ethnicity set him apart from those back home. Worse yet, Link's attire (white trousers, a green tunic and a brown leather mantle with a hood attached residing over his shoulders) was little different from the average Hylian denizen of the city, though perhaps more ragged and unattended. "Listen boy, the land has not been gracious this year and there ain't much squash they can afford not to eat. It's only a red rupee, I'm sure you can put forth."

"Yeah, I can put forth old man," Link scowled as he flung a tiny red and angled jewel, no more the length between two knuckles on a finger, toward the merchant. He grabbed the clay bottle by its long neck and began walking away. Uncorking it and drinking deeply of the thick, orange brew, he recalled bitterly the day's misfortune.

Spending too much time at the brothel the night before and waking up two hours after dawn, he was not spared dismissal this morning from his job moving crates of shipments from who-knows-where up and down seemingly growing flights of stairs. He then spent the rest of the day embracing a bottle of cheap brandywine and, once the bottle ran dry at the setting of the sun and his stomach became noticeably less agreeable, he decided to look for something more substantive and with less of a bite. He was no longer in a condition to fight his liquor and, thus, his choice of the turbid and somewhat sweet pumpkinwine.

Link's exercise in the pathetic was not the result of any importance he placed on this job in particular, but that it was a job. Ever since he moved to Hyrule City over a year ago to work for the Princess' underground conclave of spies and lackeys, his income from plundering dungeons and temples had become severely less impressive than it had been when he first set off adventuring. Back then, Link lived with minimal luxuries while, at the same time, found hordes of treasure on a regular basis. Upon entry to urban society where his employ by the crown (though she had yet to be crowned) had become more and more rare, Link realized just how costly it is to live comfortably with a normal profession.

It wasn't that Link was any less valuable to Hyrule, but simply that there were fewer missions that required his talents. Peace had become a relative constant in the Kingdom thanks to Link's handiwork with the Twilight debacle, after all. Link thought back again to those times. He grunted, a bit of orange viscosity dripping down from one side of his mouth.

He did not want to remember those times. Those thoughts always carried him to the same torturous moment. He would take his mind elsewhere, instead. Hardened by more resolve than had gripped him the whole day, he straightened his posture as best he could and attempted to walk directly. His feet occasionally failing him in his attempts at dignity, they carried him nonetheless down the alleys of the west side of the city, towards areas known for darker forms of commerce.

Link turned into an almost unnoticeable inlet between buildings, sliding against the wall for support until he reached an unmarked door. But he knew where he was and he could hear the sounds emanating from within. Not the joyous laughter he found at taverns, but a simple and lingering music and an occasional faint shuffling of feet. He knocked on the door.

"Where are you?" the voice of an old woman, now familiar to Link, asked from behind the door.

"I am grounded in penumbra," Link replied, pleased he could still conjure such a big word.

"And where do you go?" the voice continued.

"I go…" Link stumbled for a moment. His mind raced, trying to figure out the rest of the code. "to the groundless garden in the sun!" Link smiled foolishly as he recalled it at last.

The door opened, the powerful smell of incense and opium surrounding him, and the old woman, a veil over her head, invited him inside. "Then go, young man, towards the light and be freed."

-

Link lounged on the right-handed couch of a small triclinium in the corner of a basement den. His right arm hung limb, its hand weakly clutching a long, ornately carved bronze pipe with a tiny bowl at the end, smoldering. His eyes stared at nothing and they had not moved in some time. His dreaming had taken him far away to adventures that he approached half as memory and half as fantasy. His speed was swift upon Epona and his foes fell readily and without effort, as if in a dance. There was no clashing, no discordance, but only a continual sweeping through place and time, smooth, safe and comforting.

There was a startle. Link's eyes focused as much as they could, the images in his mind blowing away as so much smoke in the wind. In their place was the form a serving girl with deep red hair. On her left arm she carried a plate with cups and a bottle of peculiarly green liquid that seemed to glow in his eyes.

In moments, he realized she had awoken him with a question. A faint voice, as if somehow muffled, she asked, "an elixir?" She smiled at him, offering the contents of the bottle. Link could not muster himself to respond, but she seemed to understand, maintaining her smile. He then saw some surprise on her face as she looked upon the triclinium table.

There lay the overturned clay bottle of pumpkinwine that Link had unknowingly knocked over throughout the course of his enhanced reveries. From the lips of the bottle had come forth a greater quantity of orange liquid than Link had remembered leaving in there, its coloration now far more vivid than he could have ever imagined, seemingly effulgent in the illumination of the candles sparsely distributed in the corner of the den. Now, there lay a great puddle of this fascinating material on the table. The woman hurried to clean it, placing the plate down and pulling out a rag. On her knees, she bent over the table and began to soak it up, her hair falling around her face.

Link looked into the contrast between the red of her hair and the bright orange of the pumpkinwine. Yet, as he stared, the contrast faded and the border became less fixed. The color of her hair began to change. It grew lighter, to match the orange; deeper, to match the fullness; and it grew candescent, inescapable in his sight.

The image before him, bright and powerful, frightened his heart, though his mind remained slow to the reckoning. There she was, the bend of her body exposing her curves through her dress and the repetitive motion of her cleaning brought her back and forth over the table and caused her hips to sway in circles. And there was her hair, so orange as if aflame. He was immensely attracted to this sight and yet, he was terrified.

His mind finally caught up and it whispered to him, "Midna."

-

Link stumbled hurriedly through the alleyways, much the same way he had attempted to quickly leave the den: his mind resolved but his body unready for such alacrity. She found him out, even through the cover of the somnolent smoke clouds he erected around himself to keep her away. He could ignore his suffering even through the admonishments of his peers and acquaintances, but her memory was relentless. He could not ignore her summons, compelling him to her regal court of regret.

He envisioned it with great detail. In the dark and distorted hall of her throne room, she sat and looked through him. She would always be a figure in his mind, tormenting him with her presence and she, forever, would never look upon him. Her life would continue, full of the glory of her rank and shining majestically in her perpetual twilight while he would remain adumbrated by his melancholy in the world day.

He raced through the streets as best he could, running not from any tangible form, but in the hopes that perhaps his flight might bring him solace from her persistent visage imprinted in his mind's eye.

But the goddesses did not pity him. He came to a wide avenue and seeing the light of daybreak creeping steadily towards him on the ground, he looked up into the rising sun. A bright orange it appeared to him. The very crown of the Twilight Princess herself.

"Why do you torture me so! To show yourself without cease and yet to never return to me!" Link cried at the birthing star, gathering attention from those few citizens who had already begun their work. His unusual eloquence did not reassure any of them of his sanity, but they did not bother themselves when he turned and ran into the safety of a shadowed street, tripping upon himself in his haste, tumbling violently down a set of stairs, left unconscious on a pile of rubbish.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"C'mon, Link."

"Hm?"

"Let's get you out of the street."

There was a heave. Link blacked out again.

-

When Link awoke, he found himself on a bed. Looking around, he saw he was in a small room and knew he was at Telma's. This was one of the few rooms available for renting at the establishment. Gathering himself, he arose. Whoever brought him back had removed his tunic and the white shirt beneath it. He found them lying on a chair. As he walked over to the chair, the door to the room opened. Telma entered.

"Good afternoon, Link. Have your wits returned, hon?" Telma asked him playfully yet with a hint of disapproval. She looked over his shirtless form. There was a time when Link had been generally spared her coquetting, but in the last few years he must have become more appealing. He had changed after all. He was older, and he looked it, having cut his bangs and sporting a pair of long sideburns that reached midway down the length of his jaw. But more than anything else, perhaps it was the way he at times carried himself – burdened and with a sense of severity. Ironic that such an attitude should develop during such tranquility and only after having saved the world from a god-like tyranny.

To be sure, Link had not become a pitiful drunkard. The previous night's regrettable decisions were not the norm, though Link's comrades had grown used to his occasional bouts of dejection. This typically constituted nothing more than his displacement from the bar counter to a table in the corner, nursing whatever he had chosen to drink, staring out the window into the night. He might rise without a word and leave, presumably to go home or perhaps to less reputable locations, but he had never acted as he did the night before.

"Afternoon? Already?" Link mustered a smile, "how did I get here?" Link began dressing himself.

"Shad found you on his way over here, facedown in the gutter earlier today and dragged you here. He's out there, if you want to thank him." She indicated towards the door.

"I was outside?" Link began to recollect the night before, becoming worried at what had transpired. "Wait," he searched the contents of his rupee pouch. It was empty. He searched for the knife he carried. Gone. "Damn," he cursed. Link gave an exasperated look.

Telma smiled. "Robbed? Can't say it's unexpected. You really should know better, it's getting colder and you shouldn't be taking naps in the street." She chuckled a little.

"Yes, yes. I'm terribly embarrassed," Link said quickly, not eager to discuss the night before. "Why is Shad here so early in the day, anyway?"

"You've forgotten? The meeting?" Link groaned. "For awhile I had thought you'd matured, but I see your still relying on fate to take care of things for you."

"Well, she never seems to fail me, does she?" Link smiled brighter.

The meeting was for the Adventurer's Guild, the group that was previously known as the Resistance which had combated the forces of Zant and Ganondorf two years prior. Link returned to the organization after leaving Ordon a year ago helping them with troubles that seemed so trivial compared to their first ordeal.

"At least I can look forward to rousing congregation of Hyrule's best. Perhaps there will actually be work this time." Link exited the small chamber and entered the main room of the tavern.

Shad sat at the table in the back where the guild always held its meetings. "Shad!" Link greeted him cheerfully. "Thank you for taking me here. I must have looked a sorry sight, and I apologize."

"No need, my friend. I'm just glad I found you. This meeting might be important after all," Shad replied, eternally amicable in his own naïve way.

"Surely, surely," Link said, his doubt revealed in his slight sarcasm. "And I am glad you found me as well. I'm hungry."

Shad's smile seemed not so strong, "yes, of course."

Over the course of the years, Link's inability to finance himself properly resulted in having to part with some of the items he had collected throughout his adventures. Among them was the dominion rod which he gave to the scholarly Shad, eager to research it, in exchange for him picking up his tab whenever Link asked. Of Link's many poor business decisions, this one proved the most consistently useful.

"Telma, some food, please" Shad asked Telma gingerly as she moved behind the bar.

"Of course, dear."

"So, Link, why were you sleeping in the street, exactly?" Shad inquired.

"I guess I was too deep in my cups, is all."

"Really. It's not too common of you to do that on your own. Don't tell me, you lost your job again?"

Link did not reply, revealing the answer. Shad sighed. "I guess not all were meant for civilian life."

"Certainly not!" Link smiled big slapping Shad on the back. He enjoyed rough-housing with Shad, pleased by his meek reactions.

Telma came out with a loaf of bread on a cutting board, a knife and nearly half a demi-wheel of Hylian cheese. Link would never say anything, of course, but he always found the light taste of the cheese in these parts so boring (though the bread was much richer than anything he had ever tasted). He missed the strong goat cheese of Ordon. It was one of the few things he actually missed, he mused.

He did not suffer his wistfulness for long, however. Like the thoughts of his great adventure to Midna, contemplating home usually brought him to Ilia. How he had taken her as a lover in a childish attempt to remove Midna from his thinking. How he had mistreated her, thoughtless of her sincere devotion, crippling her as he wallowed in his own selfish misery. How he had taken from her what he had never earned, leaving her void.

She mentioned children, once, briefly, indirectly. Link left Ordon two weeks later.

"Thank you, my lovely," Link told Telma.

"Yes, thank you, Miss Telma," said Shad.

"Of course, dearies." Telma returned behind the bar and filled a small pitcher with a light ale, returning with it and three flagons, setting them upon the table. She pulled out a chair and sat across from the two men. She began to the pitcher into the flagons, but Link put his hand up when she came to the last one.

Swallowing the chunk of bread and cheese he had just stuffed in his mouth, he managed "I don't think that would be best, thank you," smiling.

Telma chuckled, "a sad day to be under the weather, Link. You know I'll be serving my best today at the meeting. Her Highness is coming, after all."

"Is she?" Link did not see too much of Zelda these days. When they had defeated Zant and Ganondorf, the full extent of the debacle had not been relayed to the people. All that was known was an evil power, presumably the Great Evil of legend, had destroyed the castle in an attempt to return to power. He was defeated by the Hero, but a public face was never shown (this was Link's request). Link and Zelda parted ways, she to rebuild her kingdom and he to herd his goats.

They did not speak again until he moved to Hyrule City and even then, he could count those occasions on one hand. Of course, it wasn't really speaking. More accurately, she curtly gave orders to him without really looking at him. He assumed she must find something distasteful about him though he never understood what exactly.

"Yes, she is, so you'd best clean yourself up. You look terrible," Telma indicated with her hand.

It was true that Link did look a mess, his hair more disheveled than typical and his clothes, a bit odorous from his poor choice of bedding, were quite wrinkled. Still, he dismissed her concerns with a careless wave of his hand.

-

"The fool!" Zelda seethed. Her champion and official knight protector, accused of adultery with another noble's wife and subsequently challenged by the jealous husband, had just been grievously wounded in the duel. "He has brought scandal to the court and now further embarrasses me by losing the match! The nerve! What will they think of me now?" Zelda only half directed the question to the chambermaid attending her in her bedroom.

"I cannot say, your Majesty," she responded timidly, not expecting her input to matter much.

"The jackals, all! Looking for any weakness like dirty scavengers. I'd marry one of them that I may be become queen, but the subsequent race for my hand would cause me more unrest than I already have now!" The chambermaid knew that Zelda now spoke in haste. She knew the princess could not stand the sight of any of them, and despite her devotion to stability and centralized power, Zelda desired love. Or this was what the chambermaid imagined, at the very least. "And now I need a new champion!"

The chambermaid approached her and began to undress her carefully. Zelda continued, letting out the frustration the necessity for constant grace and composure in public denied her to release, "if I am to hold a tournament, I must do it before the first snows. But where is there time? Autumn is already upon us. I must get started on the preparations." Zelda attempted to move but realized her chambermaid was currently unlacing her.

"You have a meeting to attend, your Majesty," the chambermaid said softly, removing the outer layer of her dress.

Zelda grimaced, "yes, of course." Free of her dress, she walked away from her servant. "Please, leave me. I must rest before we depart."

"Yes, your Majesty," the chambermaid placed the dresser in Zelda's preposterously huge wardrobe and then drew the curtains on the bed onto which Zelda had flung herself exhaustedly. She exited quietly.

Zelda lay on her side gripping her tiara in one hand. Zelda very much enjoyed its elegant design: richly ornate yet light and not cumbersome. The crown of the queen was much heavier. Zelda pushed the tiara away and instead grabbed a pillow, holding it tight.

'At least the meeting with the Adventurer's Guild should be entertaining. Auru tells me they usually end every gathering with some sort of festivity,' she thought to herself.

Thinking of the organization and the debt she owed it for their invaluable contributions during the great debacle. It placed a heaviness on her heart to know that for all their selflessness and continuing loyalty to her, they were largely rendered no thanks or public gratitude. Among them, only Shad and Ashei even had faces in the public sphere, Shad being a professor at the university and Ashei a holding rank in the military. 'Now, Ashei, there's a formidable warrior. But no, she cannot be my champion. A woman as my protector will only further service to discredit me. Besides, she has neither the grace nor wit to hold her own in court. It would be a disaster.' Despite its impossibility or perhaps because of it, Zelda smiled at the humor of it.

'Any of the others?' Zelda mused. Then, realizing, the playful whimsy of this fantastical search for a new champion was entirely lost. 'Link.'

Zelda loathed to think on Link. Zelda could repay the others, but she could never, in her mind, end her debt to him. Worse yet, out of embarrassment for her inability to recompense, she avoided him and was cold in her manner towards him. She could not face him directly, for it pained her more than she could bear. Rationally, she would attempt to convince herself that this regret was not worth the force it had on her and yet she could never erase it.

During their brief fight together against Ganondorf and the following scene at the Mirror of Twilight, she saw in Link a sincerity that frightened her. He seemed more alive than she had ever been and when Midna was returned to her true form and departed, the anguish that appeared on Link's face continued to haunt her. And she knew that she had been the cause of this suffering.

She diverted her thoughts as she fell to sleep.

-

Friendly banter filled the room at Telma's. Most of the guild had already arrived, save Rusl, and their conversations were jovial and unrelated to business. It was about four in the afternoon, before other patrons would begin entering.

It was at this time that Telma approached them. "Alright boys (Telma did not consider Ashei much of a lady), it's time we moved to the other room." Telma was speaking about the largest side room she had. Normally it was just another room for rent, but, because the princess would be coming, they needed to vacate its furnishings so that a more private gathering could be held.

They arose from their seat and began to help her move the bed to another chamber, which took much longer than anticipated, as it always did. As the four adventurers struggled to lift the bed and carry it out the too small threshold, Link vocally observed "imagine that: Rusl is late and unable to help us."

Shad was quick to reply, "really? Did he take your place as the conveniently tardy one?"

Link feigned offense, "Shad, my friend, you are too cruel." In the end, Link had decided to join Shad in some afternoon brews earlier, amplifying his merriment.

After twenty minutes of exhaustive effort, the bed was successfully placed in another room. "Thank you boys," Telma smiled, "now help me with the chairs."

While they were moving chairs into the now nearly empty room, the door to the entrance of the tavern opened. As each member of the guild quickly recognized who it was, they broke into an almost exaggerated series of exuberant greetings. Rusl was surrounded by them, receiving handshakes and slaps to the back accompanied by many smiles. Telma gave him a strong embrace. Unlike the others who lived in Hyrule City, it took Rusl more than a week to travel to these meetings and his presence was subsequently appreciated for it. "Excuse my timing lads, there were rains on the way."

Once the chairs had been set against the wall and a small table put between them, the party relocated to the side room, continuing their inconsequential discussions. Telma did not serve them any food or drink beyond a few pitchers of water upon the table even though the meeting would take them at least four hours. Traditionally, a hungry atmosphere was desired to ensure attentiveness as well as a desire to be conclusive, making people favor ending drawn-out conversations so they could eat. The secondary purpose was to encourage dining together afterwards, enforcing the strong camaraderie that still spurred them to this day.

Rusl sat next to Link. "Any news from Ordon?" Link asked.

There were plenty of things Rusl could have told him. About Ilia and her extended melancholy after Link's departure. But Rusl was wise enough to tell by the cautious expression on Link's face when he asked the question that he was already aware of what his actions would have done to Ilia and he needed no further prodding to feel guilty about it. "Well, the baby said her first words some months back. That was exciting."

Link smiled, glad that the conversation headed somewhere less sensitive. "That's great!" Their exchange continued in this fashion for some time.

"Oh," Rusl looked at Link more intently, "Ilia's engaged."

Link's pause was brief, even unnoticeable were Rusl not looking for it. "Oh really?" Link replied pleasantly. He was very good at being cheerful when he needed. "Great! With who? Don't tell me Fado." They both laughed, aware that this was painful for each of them and yet necessary. They made the best if it.

"No, no. Don't be foolish," Rusl's laughter died down a little, "some man from a ranch to the east."

Their conversation continued with more comfortable topics, but Link's mind lingered. He knew it was a good thing, that this way she might be happy. After all, now he was free of any responsibility; that is, he tried to convince himself. Yet, even he knew that this bizarre news, which he rationally knew he should greet happily, brought a sadness to him. Whether it was because simply mentioning her invoked those regrettable memories or whether there remained some attachment to her that he had refused to acknowledge, he didn't know.

By this time, patrons unaffiliated with the guild had begun to enter the tavern, their own conversations in the main room audible from the guild's more cramped location. Telma had since moved to the bar to serve the newcomers. Even though she had since hired some local boys to help with bringing out orders and preparing drinks (normally an incredibly easy job, considering the simplicity of most drink orders), Telma was still required to have a presence in the main room as regular patrons would want to know where she went. Not that Telma minded this. Despite Telma's honorary membership in the guild, she loved her job and vastly preferred it to the drab seriousness of the meetings. Further, Telma greatest asset, her penchant for gathering information, was best put to use behind a bar counter than in a secret meeting room.

Roughly an hour after the sun had fallen, the tavern had become much livelier. Telma estimated about eighteen or so total.

The door to the entrance opened and two figures walked in. Both were hooded beneath long black cloaks that wrapped around their shoulders, though the left side of the of one of them was slightly exposed by the sword at his hip which kept the cloak from completely covering him. The one with the sword, who was noticeably larger than the other, closed the door quietly.

Without a word Telma moved from behind the bar and indicated that they should follow her. She led them to the side room, opening the door for them. Once they had passed the threshold, she followed, closing the door behind her.

This series of strange and silent actions, along with the conspicuously mysterious appearance of the newcomers, perplexed most of the patrons who noticed and unnerved a few as well.

Once Telma and the two cloaked figures entered the room, all five adventures seated around the table stood hurriedly, careless of their chairs scrapping against the floor. Telma addressed them with severity, but kept her voice low, "her Majesty, the Princess Zelda."


	3. Chapter 3

Some words on this chapter:

I gave Agitha a last name. I try to give the few names I make up in this story a seeming consistency with the names found in the game, but it very difficult for me as I tend to come up with names from European languages. Surnames are especially difficult.

I have made this particular Zelda universe more medieval than I believe it was ever portrayed by Nintendo or ever intended by Miyamoto. The "medieval" landscape of Hyrule is purely aesthetic. In actuality, it is its own universe(s). I try to limit these changes of mine, but my enthusiasm for the Middle Ages makes this difficult. In this regard, I apologize, as I intended that this story to be faithful to that lovely Zelda sense that I believe many of us do enjoy. Though, I will admit that the intricate sewer system integral to the plot is hardly a medieval concept.

Also, should others find it bothersome that I often portray gender relations as being more divisive than might make some comfortable, I am resolved that this adds to the vividness of the setting.

-

Chapter 3

Those seated at the table had begun to rise before Telma had even spoken and by the time she was finished they all stood at attention, heads gazing at the shorter cloaked figure. She lowered her hood. There before them was the impossibly elegant visage of the princess, her features refined and soft, cold and beautiful and her skin was fair, unmarked and consistent. She did not wear her tiara, the symbol of her position, and her hair was kept tightly near her head in an ornate bun, tied upon itself. Her face revealed, all standing now bowed their heads as they could not fit between their chairs and the table to humble themselves more. Telma, on the other hand, was bent on her right knee, her head lowered.

Zelda spread her arms out and the man who accompanied her reached from behind her, unclasping and removing her cloak. He held it in his left arm, lowering his own hood. Zelda now stood before them, dressed not as she would normally. Her clothing was much simpler than what was required at court. Doubtless, nonetheless, was it that the black dress and gloves she adorned were made with materials of great value and assembled with masterful hands.

The man behind her pulled out the empty chair waiting at the head of the small table. Zelda sat in it with a casual grace. Everyone else sat down as well, except the nameless man, who stood inconspicuously against the wall behind Zelda, and Telma, who quietly left the room to return to her duties in the public world.

To be sure, these events transpired much more quickly than the telling might indicate and, as soon as all were seated, the severe faces that rested on many during the proceedings turned softer. Rusl even smiled.

Zelda surveyed the table as she spoke, herself putting on a satisfied disposition, "Good evening gentlemen, Ashei," she nodded slightly to Ashei, recognizing her exception, "I thank you for receiving me so eagerly."

"The pleasure, as always, is ours, your Majesty," Auru replied, he being the only one among them who regularly spoke with the princess and his voice, though serious, contained some mechanistic quality to it.

"Yes. I suppose I need not continue thanking you for your services in the past, so I will be direct. I come to you, as I often have, because I have a need for subtlety." No one looked surprised. Zelda continued, "The situation is this: an artifact has been stolen and I need it returned to its owners. I trust you've heard of the Censer of St. Vid?"

Only Auru and Shad appeared to have any idea what she was talking about, Link himself involuntarily giving a dumb look. "By the goddesses, it's been found?" Shad expelled excitedly.

"Yes, quite recently. No more than a month ago, in fact. During an excavation for who knows what purpose, Agitha Genard found the relic in her family's centuries old chapel beneath her manor in the city."

"Incredulous," Shad let slip out, "that it has been hiding here in the city beneath our noses for all these generations."

"Wait, wait, wait," Link inserted, putting his hands up, palms outward, indicating a plea for an arrest in the conversation, "I'm sure I'm revealing my unending ignorance, but could someone explain to me what it is we're talking about?"

Zelda did her best not to visibly shrink as Link addressed the question to her, his childish eyes bearing down on her with an imagined graveness that was not apparent to any others in the room, and she was forced to deflect the request. "Shad, if you would," her hand gesturing to Shad that he answer.

"Certainly, your Highness," he looked towards those at the table. "The Censer of St. Vid is an ancient relic which was assumed to be lost to time. However, that no longer appears to be the case," Shad's own excitement was evident in his explanation. "Among its miraculous powers, the smoke it produces is fabled to induce extremely exaggerated effects in those who inhale it. Again according to legend, these effects are said to vary depending on what incense is burned within the censer."

"Thank you Shad."

"Of course, your highness, but I can't help but wonder why this is the first we've heard of it. Surely this news would have generated more of an uproar."

Zelda gave a look expressing some discomfort. "Yes, well, it would seem young Lady Agitha was convinced to keep the ensuing auction a relative secret and only some of the city's larger characters in the private sector were invited. I did not see the reason to upset the burghers, and thus, I chose not to inform the public at large, including the university," she looked at Shad as she said this, "until the censer had found itself in suitable hands."

As she had expected, Shad was not pleased with this answer. "But what better home than with the learned?" Shad exclaimed, forgetting himself, both in the sense of the object of his cry as well as his own natural disposition towards timidity.

"Yes, and I would have expected a similar righteous outrage from the bishop at the cathedral. You may trust that I am aware of the advantages you surely intend to put to me. Yet I also ask that you trust me when I say there is no present need to further upset the guilds in this city. Better to let them squabble with each other over the cursed old thing than have them turn to me in unified anger." Zelda responded quickly and severely, a sharpness to her tongue that none doubted she was capable of but that they had never themselves seen before and it was evident on their ashamed faces - except Auru, who, by his expressions, already seemed to know all of this but was also accustomed to Zelda's occasional quickness of tongue. Most bashful was Shad, of course.

Zelda noticed the strained presence she created, exactly the opposite of what she wanted. 'Goddesses, this is not what I intended. I hoped that I could talk freely with them and I'm ruining it already!' Zelda resolved to ameliorate things. "As it is, this is the only remaining guild I can depend on, for what it is worth," Zelda smiled at them. Everyone in the room knew that Adventurer's Guild did not actually function like a guild and that she was not intending to honestly suggest that they were her allies in the economic troubles of Hyrule; rather, her sentiment of trust in friends was implied and well-taken. "Truly, I seek you out as friends," Zelda beseeched them.

The tension appeared to be lessened. Zelda was pleased. She continued, "the auction ended with the relic awarded to the Southtown Bakers' Guild. They had planned to place it in the church for which they are sponsoring the construction. But, it was stolen." Though this was certainly an abrupt shift in the story, the guild might have seemed strangely unsurprised to some. They were used to these kinds of things; after all, why would they be sought out by the princess if something had not gone wrong?

"When was this?" asked Shad, noticeably more concerned than the others.

"Two nights ago from the chapel itself. It was found missing in the morning. A hole had been tunneled through to the chapel from the sewers. Doubtless, it had been a well-orchestrated affair."

"Yes, doubtless," Auru confirmed. "Has there been an investigation?"

"Not yet. In order to maintain secrecy, I have elected to pass that on to you."

"Of course." Auru turned to the other members at the table, "looking forward to scouring the sewers, boys?" Auru laughed. They smiled, taking on the prospect of such undesirable work with a certain light-hearted dignity.

"It's what I live for," Link joked with a smile. Link was, of course, familiar with a portion of the town's sewers, having had to navigate them before. They were first part of the cit he had ever seen, in fact. He knew from his time in them that they extended far beyond what he had experienced (the city was very old, after all) and, despite the distinctly unpleasant setting, Link was eager for some adventure, the jest of his comment masking his actual enthusiasm.

"Are there any leads?" questioned Rusl.

"Not as of yet, though I can only suspect that the heist was financed by another guild," answered Auru, revealing his prior knowledge of the situation, "but I will investigate those who might know something. In the meantime, let's formulate a plan of recovery." The table nodded in accord.

No one was too surprised that Auru was already aware of their mission. He was well-connected with the goings-on of the city and regularly met with the princess, being both the leader of the guild and its liaison with the crown.

"I suppose we will go to the chapel in the morning," said Rusl, "but we won't be able to do much without traversing the sewers. This could be a problem. They could be anywhere in that labyrinth or anywhere else for that matter."

"Tracking animals in the wild is easy, yeah. How do we track thieves in a sewer?" puzzled Ashei, her brisk and blunt speech laying out flatly the seeming impossibility of their search.

"In my own inquisition I will attain a map of the sewers. They are hard to find and often out of date or otherwise undependable, being the products of dubious types. But I know some people," Auru reassured them in the somewhat cryptic fashion that so often seemed present in the way he talked about the darker side of society he seemed to know so well. "The rest of you go to Lady Agitha's and see what you can."

More gestures of agreement were displayed by the table, though Link quietly groaned, remembering his experiences with her in the past. "That girl is off in ways I can't understand," he whispered to Rusl, evoking a chuckle from him.

Before more else could be put forward, Shad, sensitive to Zelda's irritability on the subject, meekly questioned, "just a curiosity, but if we desired to let the fate of the censer be left to the guilds, why are we involving ourselves in this affair. Would it not be best to let the bakers recover it themselves?"

Zelda, cautious not to disrupt the mood again, gently replied, "I am afraid we cannot remain neutral. The leader of the Southtown Bakers is an important alderman in the city and one of the few who has remained consistent in support of the state's actions, though I am not fool enough to believe it is out of any sense of loyalty to my sovereignty. I do not wish to upset him for I prize his fealty. We must return the relic to him."

At that, Shad let his discontent rest. The meeting then turned to more mundane issues. Zelda informed the guild of affairs of the state, the matter thick with the politics of the kingdom. Occasionally, the muted man behind Zelda would come forth with scrolls of information pertaining to the subject at hand and lay them at the table, doing so with seemingly no indication from Zelda, before returning to his silent position behind at the wall.

For more than two hours, the meeting moved along in this fashion. Eventually, Zelda came to an issue that she presented with clear contempt.

"Perhaps you have already heard, but the Royal Champion has recently been incapacitated, likely permanently, in a recent duel with a jealous cuckold. I haven't attempted to defend the man, but the affair has nonetheless brought me great shame. It is as frustrating as you might imagine."

"He was an unsavory man," chimed Auru, disgust evident in his interjection.

"Indeed, though I thought him to be a better combatant. I suppose his libertine tendencies grew him soft. Regardless, I must find a replacement and soon; otherwise, the ensuing competition will breed the same level of ridiculous and damaging intrigue that the suitors have caused in pursuing my marriage. Though I am loathe to resort to such needless displays, I must hold a tournament before the weather turns."

The table was intrigued by this news, as such courtly dramas were always entertaining even though they implied an unrest that could be potentially damaging to the stability and peace of the nation. Nonetheless, they were not just a little perplexed why Zelda would insist on detailing it for them. After all, there was no way any of them were eligible for the tournament and, seemingly, there was nothing she could use them for in the affair. Zelda noticed this confusion on some of their faces, worriedly observant of Link especially. She thought, for only the briefest of moments, that perhaps Link believed she wanted him to be her champion. She quickly brushed this silly thought aside. 'Of course he wouldn't consider something so ridiculous' she assured herself. But now she worried why _she_ was so fixated. It was so absurd and yet the idea kept returning to her, making a fool of herself in her mind, a sort of mental self-humiliation. Quickly, she discarded the issue, "but this is not important for now. I only thought you should be aware of this troubling issue, as it might have graver consequences than it merits producing."

The tactical maneuver away from the subject was indeed awkward, but certainly no one would press the issue. Zelda was keenly aware of this and it was only the incredible dignity she carried with her that preserved her from some embarrassment at appearing to ramble. There was some relief in her heart, however, at simply expressing her anger. The members of the Adventurer's Guild provided an environment that was very refreshing for her. They were not eager to gain from her. They did not seek to empower themselves and lacked all intentions of manipulation. And how could she expect any less from the Resistance, the only group that remained devoted to the liberty of Hyrule during the Ordeal. Suddenly, she cursed herself for forgetting for even a moment their loyalty. 'These are my most faithful subjects and I must always appreciate them dutifully," she reminded herself, a faint sadness lingering in heart as she knew that loyal servants were the closest to friends that she would permit herself to have.

Despite whatever Zelda thought to herself, when she mentioned the tournament, Link could not help but be excited though he did not show it. He knew he would not be a participant but such events always triggered that eagerness he held for physical challenges. He did not dwell on it long, however. He was happy enough that there was now a new adventure to be had beneath the city.

After a few more affairs were discussed, wholly irrelevant to their new mission, Zelda declared that she had nothing else to present. "There is little else left to say."

"And we've nothing else, either," returned Auru, speaking for the guild. "Should we adjourn?"

"Yes, I believe so. I am exhausted."

"Very well. Shad, are there still patrons outside?" Shad was sitting nearest to the door. He turned his ear to the door, everyone listening.

"No, I don't believe so."

"Excellent. Telma must have closed early." Auru turned to Zelda. "Your Majesty, would you honor us to stay and dine?"

Zelda smiled warmly, a greater smile than any of them had ever seen on her face. "I would like nothing more."

"Ha-ha! At last!" Link was joyous and clapped his hands. He stood in his excitement. Auru, too, stood, offering his hand to the princess. She took it and, while the man behind her simultaneously pulled back the chair on which she sat, Auru helped her rise.

Shad moved to the door and opened it. After checking for sure that it was safe to go into the main room, he held the door open as Auru led Zelda through the portal, the silent man close behind. The rest of them followed suit.

6


	4. Chapter 4

Some notes on this chapter:

In terms of agriculture, I have made Hyrule itself as a kind of mixture of France and Britain. Basically, an archetypal Western European setting, though, as I am fixated on food and drink, I insist on some further description, given that there are social implications to what people consume in any society. Just some little tidbits:

-Vineyards and farms can be found throughout the fields of Hyrule, even though they were never shown in the game itself (the food has to come from somewhere)

-It would seem that from the continuous reference to milk and cows made in Zelda games in the past, that cows are likely the most common animal raised, perhaps after cuccos – as such, dairy is extremely important to the Hylian diet, though beef is not consumed with too much frequency

-Bread from wheat is the most common food and beer from barley is the most common drink

-Wine is not completely inaccessible to the general public and enjoys some popularity, though nowhere close to beer – wine is the drink of choice for the nobility

-Both whiskey and brandy exist and are available in Hyrule to all classes though brandy enjoys an image considered more sophisticated than whiskey

-Wine genres have made-up names in my story because using the names of grapes from our world wouldn't be very appropriate

-

Chapter 4

Unceremoniously, everyone poured into the main room of the tavern. The room had been entirely deserted, save for Telma, but it remained well-lit from the previous hours' business. Telma came in from the kitchen, rinsing a wooden flagon with a wet rag. "Oh wonderful! Done at last."

"Yes, at last," Link smiled, kicking his feet around to excite his legs back to their typical spryness. Like an overgrown child, Link became very restless during prolonged periods of sitting.

Telma curtsied low before Zelda, exhibiting a grace that the inattentive would have thought impossible of her. She asked the Princess, "Will your Majesty be dining with us tonight?"

"Yes and thank you for your hospitality."

"No need for thanks, my Princess. Come, be seated." Telma indicated to all who stood about to sit at the table where the guild normally met, seating Zelda at the head. Telma was a bit perplexed about what to do with the servant that had accompanied Zelda, though she soon found that he needed no direction and moved to stand at the corner behind Zelda on his own accord.

Once seated, Zelda removed her gloves and held them outstretched in one hand. Without a word, the silent man took them from her and returned to his post.

With no provocation, conversations among everyone commenced sporadically. Auru and Shad, who sat on either side of her, kept Zelda engaged while Link, Rusl and Ashei talked to each other at the other end of the table. The hunger and restlessness produced from the meeting created an enthusiasm among them all that spurred such interactions excitedly. They talked loudly and fiercely and emitted laughter frequently. All this while Telma went about to each of them acquiring their preferences for the meal to come.

She came to Link. "And you, sweetie?"

"Remind me what we have tonight," Link smiled, an energy in his hunger.

"Well, I've got my boys turning a boar in the kitchen, but there's some fresh pheasant I'm going to prepare if it suits your palette more."

Link's eyes widened at the mention of main course, implying more food would come as well. He often became this way with food ever since his great adventure. If he saw food, he wanted to eat it, something deeply rooted in him spurring him on. Link tried his luck, "That sounds wonderful. Perhaps I might have both?"

Telma laughed. "Such greedy young man. You're never quite satisfied are you?" She smiled, "well, certainly you may have both. There will be no sparing this night."

"You are too kind."

"Think nothing of it." She bent over and lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. "And how will I prepare your feast, hon?"

"You know how I like it."

"Of course, as raw as possible," Telma said, some playful condescension in her voice. Again, Link's odd tendencies were apparent to his comrades through his penchant for raw meat. Of course, none but Zelda knew the whole story. At least, it remained a secret that he was once a kind of lycanthrope.

"I don't see what's so strange. I only wish to enjoy my meal as unchanged as I can. There's no cause for alarm when a man seeks only to enjoy something's natural beauty." Link gazed, in a feigned attempt at subtlety, from Telma's cleavage to her eyes. Masterfully, Link made this series of movements obvious to her while making it as if he believed it was unnoticed. Link, of course, had no real interest in Telma (though there was no doubt that the view down her shirt was indeed a marvel), but he knew such playful coquetry made her more agreeable. And, without a doubt, Link was good at what he did. In his time in the city, he had learned the art of flirtation nearly from scratch, being little more than a bumbling country boy during the great adventure. It was easy too. Probably one of the easiest things he ever learned to do.

And yet, when Link thought on Midna, his confidence and self-assured ability faltered. Link quickly became aware that these coy powers he boasted of were trivial. They worked only on frivolous girls whose affections for him would just as quickly fade as the setting sun lowers beneath the horizon. But Midna, she was the setting sun. Her majesty made such meaningless banter seem pathetic. These thoughts made Link shrink.

But they did not come to his mind at this moment. Instead, he used his flirtatious advancement to coax some more hospitality from the generous Telma. "Untainted, unaltered, unmixed. Pure, you could say. Like a spirit of a single mash, undisturbed in its cask – ten, maybe fifteen years," Link smiled with a hint of jovial avarice. "It would be appropriate for the occasion, no?"

Telma shook her head in an exaggerated display of exasperation, "There's just no end to you, is there?" Telma moved on to the rest of the table, accommodation apparent in her reply.

When Telma finished taking orders from all at the table (not bothering to ask the severe man in the corner), she returned to the kitchen. In minutes she returned, everyone still as talkative as when she left. With her, she carried a tray where rested two plates of fruits and chesses and two loaves of bread. She placed them at the two ends of the table and turned to go back to the kitchen, informing the table, "I'll be back with the wine in a moment."

Link's angled ears pricked up. He rose and quickly caught up to Telma, turning her towards him and taking the tray from hands. "Let me, my lady. You should sit and enjoy the first glass."

Telma exhaled loudly, "the food will never be ready in time if I sit with you."

"Nonsense, nonsense. But a glass." He led her to his own chair. "What's the wine?"

She sat, smiling more widely, content that she had been "persuaded" to take a glass and rest a while. It was a fine wine she had planned for the appetizer, after all, and she was not always able to indulge herself so well. "Top shelf at the end of the cellar. There's two bottles of Lakebed Yellowvine. Bring them with some glasses sweetie."

"Glasses? You have wine glasses?"

"Of course I do. I'm not as uncultured as the men that make up my patronage," she said, eyeing him with mock insult. "Bring some water while you're at it," she added.

"Gladly." Link flourished a bow and an about face, a motion as ridiculous as Link had intended. Despite Link's stronger sense of desire (that is, stronger than the modest boy who saved the Kingdom two years ago), he did not mind playing the fool.

Smiling, he set off for the cellar. He entered the kitchen and moved towards the narrow staircase that led downwards, passing by the two young local boys who were roasting the boar for Telma. As he passed, he inhaled the delicious smell of cooked meat and seasoning and was forced to stop and appreciate the sight. It was of modest size, but it was indeed fresh, though Link could not name the spice he smelled. One of the boys took charge of the spit and the other was taking care applying spices and sauces. The boys, around twelve or thirteen years old, looked up from their work as Link halted before them. Noticing their stares, Link looked back, "Excellent work young men. How long have you been back here?"

The one holding the spit answered, "My guess is two hours." He looked at the other boy, who seemed to agree.

"That is quite some time." Link noticed the perspiration that rest on their faces and he knew they were not lying. "You must be tired. I thank you for your work. Just a moment." Link continued towards the staircase.

He descended into the small cellar of the tavern. Considerably longer lengthwise, casks of ale and lager lined the right wall, allowing for a path along the left wall to the shelves in the back. As Link made his way there, he eyed around for the spirits. He found them near the bottom of the shelf that held the wine Telma indicated. Looking around, he found the oldest date possible. It was a clay jug whisky with the cork sticking out. Its mold read "Kakariko Foothills 23" and the colorful tribal designs of the pottery furthered its claims of desert origins. He scratched his sideburns with wolfen anticipation. Link grabbed it and the two bottles of wine and returned to the kitchen.

He set the wine bottles down on a table next to the boys where he had placed the tray he took from Telma. Sill holding the whisky, he asked, "Where does Telma keep the wine glasses, fellows?"

The boy holding the spit pointed to a cabinet on the other side of the room. "Over there, sir."

"Excellent." Link set down the whisky and went where he was directed. There, he found a variety of glasses in a cabinet towards the back, surprising him very much. 'Telma never uses these with us,' he commented in his head. He took seven white wine glasses and placed them on the tray with the bottles. Taking a few empty containers, he filled them up with water kept in a cask in the kitchen and placed them on the tray as well. Lastly, he grabbed seven short glasses. Trying to place these on the overcrowded tray was difficult, but he eventually managed.

The two boys looked at him curiously. "Need any help, sir?" asked the one with the spit.

"No, no, I think I've got it."

Content with his arrangement, he took the whiskey and came to the boys. "You know, I really do appreciate all the work you've been doing here and I imagine you must be thirsty." He held up the jug as he said this. The boy with the spit was about to tell him that they had plenty of water and that he shouldn't trouble himself, but his friend, who now held a basting brush and a cup of sauce, elbowed him before he could say anything.

"Why yes sir, we are," answered the eager one, eyeing his friend with a cautionary gaze.

"Of course you are." Link removed the cork with his hand and took a deep swig. The taste was certainly rustic and reminded him of the smoky drinks they enjoy in those parts. After swallowing, he exhaled loudly. "That's really good. They make it strong in Kakariko!" Smiling, he passed the jug to the eager baster, who had by now put down his instruments. He took the jug excitedly with two hands. Attempting to emulate Link, he overambitiously drank of it and was barely able to keep it all down, coughing at its strength. Trying to pass it off coolly, he handed the jug to his friend who took it hesitantly. This one was much more cautious and managed to swallow with only slight irritation in his throat.

Link took the jug from him. "It's good, huh?" Link smiled. He knew these boys had absolutely no concept of a good whisky, but he enjoyed giving them opportunities to act mature, as boys of that age like to do. They nodded fiercely, for they could not just yet open their mouths to say anything. "Well then, my young men, I must return with the wine. Again, thank you for your hard work." The boys nodded some more, still unable to speak.

After some fumbling, Link fastened the handle of the jug to his belt and began his careful, slow trek back to the main room carrying the overburdened tray. His entry was an amusing sight, having to crouch in order to maintain stability, his head now obscured by the bottles and glasses on the tray.

Those at the table, who had already commenced eating the fruits and cheeses, began laughing at this comical sight. Rusl, even, was not afraid to openly poke fun at him, "A bit overzealous, aren't we?" he called over to Link, still inching his way towards the table.

Link poked his head over the mountain of glass, a wide grin across his face. "There's nothing wrong with enthusiasm in service"

Just as Link turned around the corner of the bar, he realized he did not bring a corkscrew. He placed the tray on the bar and hurried back into the kitchen, reappearing in another twenty seconds before returning to his slow advance towards the table. All this only caused further laughing and jeering from the table.

Finally, Link reached the table and gently set down the tray, exhaling with relief when he was done. In an almost disconcertedly ravenous fashion, those seated at the table began picking apart at the tray with surprising speed and setting the bottles and glasses across the table. In this frenzy, Link managed to grab the corkscrew from the tray. Taking the nearest wine bottle, Link unceremoniously stabbed into it. Upon pulling out the cork, Link was careless to sophistication, an audible pop emitting from the bottle. He began filling the wine glasses which, by now, were situated in front of their owners.

Coming to Zelda, who had to hold her glass up to him as she was at the end of the table, Link tried to smile at her, pleasantly addressing her, "Your Highness." She looked back at him and Link no longer doubted her hatred for him. Her face was completely expressionless and she seemed to stare at him in a manner that demanded he move on as quickly as possible. When he had finished pouring, afraid the entire time that he would somehow mess up, perhaps even spill, and incur further hatred, he was glad to end that bitingly awkward exchange.

It was all Zelda could do to look at him. Consciously, she tried to stare through him, imagining the wall behind him. It was difficult. Link held a big presence about him.

Link filled his own glass last, proving he knew at least some degree of etiquette. Just as Link set down the bottle and began to raise his own glass, Auru quickly stood up, his own glass already above his head. Though Link himself did not intend to make the toast, Auru wanted to make sure he didn't. To be sure, Auru was appreciative of Link's enthusiastic humor, but he questioned whether he could make the most tactful of speeches in the presence of royalty.

At Auru's movements, everyone seated rose as well, glasses in hand, and a silence fell. Auru spoke in a big voice, "It is from the graciousness of the Crown that we may sit here tonight and it is for her protection and in her eternal service that we live our lives. It is both from our most heartfelt duty and in our most joyous pleasure that we commit ourselves in lifelong fealty to her, the Crown, and to her present human beauty, Princess Zelda." Enthused responses of agreement, mostly exclamations of "here, here!" and the like, came from the members of the guild. Zelda gave a polite smile. Finishing, Auru declared, "Goddesses save the princess and peace in Hyrule!" Similar concordant statements were said as glasses were brought to each other, a series of soft clinging noises going about the table and then imbibing of their glasses. After the toast they seated themselves, though Link remained standing between Rusl and Telma, having given his seat to the hostess.

Link drank deeply from his wine, finishing half the glass. It was a very good wine. The taste was subtle, though Link rarely expected much from white wine, his experience with it being minimal. There was certainly a sweetness to it, but it was not obnoxious but pleasant, and the aftertaste carried a sharp excitement with it. Duly impressed and continually surprised by Telma's good taste, until this moment a mystery to him, he said as much, "Telma this is delicious. How come you never serve this to us?"

"I'm upset you seem so shocked. I'm more of lady than you can imagine," Telma responded with a sly expression, evidently willing to continue their previous flirtatious nonsense. "Though I'm sure it's more than you could ever afford, young man, so I never offer it. Truly, you would spend _every_ night under the stars if you chose to drink the likes of this wine."

"You know, I'm quite accustomed to such bedding and I think I prefer it to that dank cupboard I was somehow convinced to actually hand over rupees for. Besides, that would leave me only with more to give to you – in exchange for this delicious wine, that is."

"Well, if you stay as careless as you were last night, you won't have anything left to give me, though I can't imagine the thief thought himself too lucky when he cut your purse. An empty bag of wind, I'm sure, just like your words."

"You hurt me with your words Telma. A veritable lance to the heart."

"More sting from her tongue brings a woman's bite / Than the mightiest blows of any knight," Rusl put in, summoning an askew gaze from the silent Ashei.

"Well said, Rusl. The issue of payment, however, I'm glad to say we can put aside. After all, it is from Shad's generous pocket, and not mine, that this wine would be purchased."

Shad, who had been engaged in conversation at the other side of the table, turned his head at the mention of his name. "What's this? Is Link trying to drive me into debt again?"

Link grabbed a chair from the nearest table and brought it next to Shad, placing it where there was most room. He did this all very quickly and with an air of haphazardness, but, as is typical with Link, he managed to accomplish it successfully and without causing undue collisions. As he sat, Link responded to Shad's concerned inquiry, "It's nothing. I wouldn't suggest worrying about it. But here, let's finish this wine and take on the whisky." Link leaned into Shad's ear and whispered "Kakarikan, twenty-three years in its cask." Shad, not just a little impressed turned to look at Link, seeing Link's eyes still widened. Shad occasionally worried about his friend's enthusiasm in these matters, but these concerns had never been justified in being expressed.

"That does sound very delicious."

Link smiled, happy that he easily coerced his friend. Realizing the jug was still attached to his belt, Link turned his body from the table and attempted to undue his it without drawing attention. Quickly, he removed the jug and set in front of him, redoing his belt beneath the table so that no one could see.

"That's a lot of whisky," Shad said with some surprise.

"Yes, and I expect us to drink all of it." This statement was, of course, completely ridiculous. However, behind it lay an implication that Shad dreaded internally: Link was going to drink him sick again. It was a sort of game that Link played, testing the limits of Shad's tolerance. No one would have guessed it by looking at the frail man, but he was capable of easily drinking the worth of two men. In fact, none of the members of the guild had ever managed to go drink for drink with him, though Link was always trying.

Link began filling up two of the shorter glasses he brought in from kitchen that were next to he and Shad. Having finished pouring generous servings into these glasses, Link turned to his right and offered to the man in front of him, Auru, holding up the jug to him. "Kakariko's finest?" Auru nodded in agreement and Link filled a nearby glass.

It was during this time, while serving Auru the whisky, that Link finally made the realization that he had placed his chair between Shad and Zelda. This created a twofold discomfort, Link was aware. Not only was Zelda now witness to his immature antics and generally loud behavior – characteristics that Link was sure she would hold against him – but he would be obligated to offer her, the Princess of the Realm, Matron of all Hyrule, to drink whisky with them. Kakarikan hillbilly juice. Though a discerning tongue could appreciate the liquor, it was not something one presents to a princess. 'I might as well offer her moonshine,' he mentally grieved.

Finished with Auru's glass, he inhaled as he turned to Zelda. He was startled to see she was already looking at him. Staring, that is, with not a hint of kindness, as if she had been waiting for him to look at her.

In fact, she had. Ever since Link had pulled up the chair, Zelda became rigid. Auru continued to talk with her, but she looked down at the table the entire time, unable to really listen. All she could hear was the exchange between Link and Shad.

He was so different now. Of course, she had never really known him during the Great Ordeal, but he seemed so quiet then, so dutiful. 'He was also a wolf for most of that time,' she had to remind herself. 'But even so,' she continued, 'when we battled the Recurrent Evil, his resolution overcame him. I suppose this is his natural self, the one suited for peace.' She saw him pouring whisky into Auru's glass. She stood up straight, ready to meet him.

"Your Highness?" He held the jug of whisky to her, trying to maintain a composed look, though Zelda could almost see an sort of plea for mercy behind it. But she could not smile. It hurt too much.

After two and a half awkward seconds of silence, Zelda managed to abruptly shake her head and hurriedly turned back to Auru to continue not listening to him. The worst of it, she realized, was that Auru doubtlessly saw everything. 'Damn his perception,' she cursed to herself. He was too good a spy. Though he would likely never mention anything of it to her, she would have to live knowing he knew. Knowing that Auru could see what was supposed to be her hidden regret, her torment alone.

She heard the clinging of glasses next to her. Looking up, she saw that the three men around her had toasted. "To our hostess," they proclaimed in unison, apparently having agreed beforehand what to say. They drank of their glasses.

Having heard their toast, Telma spoke across the table, "My gracious boys, you are too kind." Turning to those around her at the other end of the table, she admitted, "And now I must return to the kitchen. But, please, have the other bottle of wine and, should it suit you, that dreadful desert spirit Link seems so attached to." With that, Telma rose and returned to the kitchen.

Just as she stood, the sound of Link and Shad's glasses pounding against the table could be heard, followed by exhales. Auru still held his glass, having enjoyed his drink. "That is not how a man appreciates whisky, boys," Auru scolded them, taking another sip.

"There's time enough to slow down when old age demands it of me," Link came back, pouring himself and Shad another glass with a defiant look on his face.

"Yes, time enough to sit and think 'what was all the rush for?'" Auru looked at him with a degree of severity.

"Yes, and a grand question it will be," Link returned, bringing his renewed glass to Shad's, likewise full. Together, they mercilessly drained them. This time, however, Shad had to quickly finish his wine to keep the whisky down and Link, without another drink, gracelessly crammed an apple slice into his mouth from the nearest plate of food. Auru took great pleasure from this spectacle of emasculation, evident by his wide smile – all the wider upon his massive jaw.

Link had kept his shoulder at a considerably severe angle away from Zelda this entire time, so as to shield him from her presence, though he was keen to not appear disrespectful. Knowing he couldn't keep this up for long, after the second glass of whisky, Link, a smile on his face, arose. "I think I'll take my original seat back, I don't want to crowd you," he excused himself.

Now seated at the other end of the table, Link felt his chest lighten and he breathed easier. Zelda, too, felt her muscles relax once Link had displaced himself.

The time passed jovially enough with conversations arising both among a few people as well as across the table. In about a half hour's time, Telma, followed by the two young boys who carried the roasted boar on a great platter, made her rather ceremonious entrance from the kitchen. She herself masterfully carried in one hand a plate where rested two more bottles of wine and glasses for all. When they came to the table, Telma waited for the boys to set the boar down, which, naturally took some time and required that Rusl and Ashei make room. The boys returned to the kitchen quickly while Telma placed the wine plate down. Uncorking the first bottle, she informed them, "Plates, knives and sauce will be out in a moment and the pheasant should be soon to follow." She began pouring the wine into glasses and distributed them about the table.

Much of the table seemed to stare in slight wonderment at the giant bounty of meat that lay before them, the heat emitting from its body easily reaching the beaming faces of the onlookers and carrying with it the intoxicating odor of rightly seasoned flesh. 'Saffron,' Zelda detected. She smiled, delighted. It was a favorite spice of hers.

In very little time, the two boys returned. One carried the plates stacked upon each other and with all the knives piled on top. The other carefully carried two truncheons of sauce. Once everything had been placed appropriately, the boys left once more for the kitchen. Telma addressed the table, "Please, begin. The pheasant will be out shortly for those who requested it."

Eagerly, those at the table not expecting fowl – excepting Link, of course - came down upon brown-reddened boar, cutting off pieces with their knives and dipping them into the truncheons before completing the task with ravenous enthusiasm. Zelda was amused. The way the Guild ate was certainly not unseemly to her, but she could not help but notice a distinct difference in decorum between her current setting and the situations in which she normally dined. There was something in watching a group of well-grown adults (she was being generous with Link) attack their food with such fervor and in such a frenzy that she found highly tickling.

Auru looked to the Princess and asked, "Would you like some, your Highness?"

"Yes, just a little please."

Carefully, Auru cut off some small pieces for her and placed them on her plate. Lightly dabbing them in sauce she ate of the dark meat with no small relish. In the public sphere, Zelda normally chose not to eat meat, for it was important for a woman with authority to appear merciful. No longer under such a judgmental gaze, she indulged her desire for strong, perhaps even overbearing, flavor. The delicious bitterness of the saffron combined with the richness of pork made her mouth as if to melt from pleasure. However, she could only take so much power and heaviness before her tongue grew weary.

Fortunately for her, Telma and the two boys came out in only a few minutes with the pheasant, cut into strips upon three plates. Zelda, Auru and Link each received one, though Link's was distinctly without steam and the coloration was off. Ashei and Rusl looked at his plate quizzically. "Did it even touch the fire, yeah?" Ashei doubted.

Link chuckled. "Let's hope not." Though Link still preferred the taste of raw meat, he had come to the disappointing realization that he maintained only his lupine mannerisms and desires while his stomach remained wholly human. To his dismay, he had learned that he must cook most of his food, if only a little.

Link took deeply from the new wine, a bitter drink of a strangely bright red color, to clear his palette. Rusl and Ashei looked on with somewhat bemused expressions. They had come to know Link's eating habits to be strange, though Rusl remained more perplexed than the others, having never known Link to enjoy such unattended meat when he was a boy in Ordon. Many things had changed the boy that was once his ward, but this was by far the most bizarre. 'I guess he never had time to cook his meals during his quest," Rusl postulated to himself.

When all the plates of pheasant were put down, Telma spoke up, "Now, I know the cooking has made me perhaps unpresentable…"

She was immediately interrupted by exclamations of denial.

"Of course not!" came from Shad.

"No, never!" put in Link.

"This could never be!" refuted Rusl.

Telma smiled and continued, "But, having served the main course, I should like to join you." She curtsied to sounds of cheering from the table. Link was even clapping. She moved to the empty chair that Link had left between Shad and Zelda and sat there. In minutes, one of the boys from the kitchen, the baster, delivered her a plate of pheasant as well.

The night continued with merriment as everyone took to their meals. Link made short work of his pheasant and quickly returned to tearing through the beast that lay in the middle of the table. In time, however, even Link became unable to continue, nearing the limits of his stomach's capacity. He leaned back in his chair and washed down a morsel with the last of his fourth glass of wine. He exhaled in contentment.

"Vanquished, yeah?"

"I will never admit defeat!" Link sat back up and reached for his knife with his right hand and an opened bottle of wine with his left. Clumsily, Link managed to pour himself another glass of wine at the same time that he cut off a chunk of meat. Putting the knife and bottle down, he grabbed the meat and placed it on his plate. He stared at it. Some moments passed.

"You gonna eat it or what?" questioned Ashei, impatient.

"Excuse me for savoring it. Some of us are trying to maintain some sophistication," Link shot back at her, his new cloak of dignity fitting too loosely around the shoulders. Ashei did not quite understand the humor, as usual, and gave up on watching Link torture himself.

Link never did finish that particular slab of meat. Whether he had the resolve or not was never answered before dessert was presented: a raspberry crème brûlée and an appropriately flavored dessert wine. Link was stunned. He had never had such a rich meal before. In fact, he had never had this dish before or even knew what it was. Nonetheless, he delighted in it.

As the last course was finished, a general satisfaction pervaded the room complimented by the excitement now achieved by the abundance of wine and whisky. Even Zelda, who normally demanded great restraint of herself, had finished her third glass of wine. So excited were some, in fact, that they grew a little restless. Rusl stood and walked around the table, his eyes on Telma. When he reached her, he held out his hand, smiling. She smiled as well, for she knew what he had come for. "Telma, my most precious lady of the city, we must kick up our feet now."

"Must we? A symbolic casting of discretion, I imagine. Well, you must know I cannot refuse you, you devil." She took his hand and he guided her to the open space in front of the bar.

As they left the table, he called to Auru, "A song please, old friend. Ordonian."

Telma laughed, "Oh no, the Goatcanter?" Rusl only smiled.

Auru nodded to Rusl. He appeared to fidget with something at his belt and, as if out of nowhere, produced a small black case the size of two fists. Opening it, Auru pulled form it a small concertina. He turned his chair towards the makeshift dance floor and began to play a simple tune at a moderate measure. Perhaps one of the less striking advantages to Auru's wordliness was his ability to play regional songs of most any land. Link smiled. He knew the song. They used to play it often at the festivals in Ordon.

Those at the table watched on as Rusl led Telma through the silly Ordonian dance involving a large amount of skipping and quick sliding motions in a given direction (known as charges in this particular dance's terminology). With no mistake, Telma was an excellent dancer having caught on quickly to the Goatcanter the last time Rusl had taught it to her.

Auru finished the song with a flourish and Rusl, trying to agree with it, spun Telma around. Not perfectly timed, but a good display, nonetheless. By now, Link had moved to the bar and leaned against it, waiting for his chance to interrupt. Just as he stepped up, Rusl turned to him, "Not so fast, boy. I won't have you steal her from me quite so quickly."

Link assumed a swagger, "Is that so, _old_ man? What do you propose? Swords? Fists?"

"Neither. The Courting Duel," Rusl said with humorous drama.

Telma smiled with her eyes widening as Link narrowed his own, "It's you're funeral, old man. Took long enough." Auru struck up the appropriate song involving many sharp and sudden notes.

By now, those present uninitiated with the nature of Ordonian dances had begun to notice shared theme relating to goats. The beginning of this dance was entirely choreographed. The three lined up, Telma in the middle, and they began dancing in unison all facing the same direction. This portion took them both side to side and back and forth, involving some standardized footwork and hand motion (though the hands normally rest on the hips, the left was brought above head when the dancer began spinning motions). However, after some measures of this, the dance became unpredictable. Telma skipped away from the line as Link and Rusl danced towards her. Rusl made it first, inserting himself between Link and she. They begin dancing each other while Link essentially dances in place waiting for an opening. As they move about the floor, Link follows them.

The table watched, very amused. Not all knew the rules, but the entire process was intense enough to indicate its purpose tacitly. Those who did know the rules were aware, however, that the first among them that can spin the lady three times wins. Still, should an opponent be able to, he can place himself between the other man and the lady, initiating a duel. This is most likely to happen when one of them attempt to spin the lady. Thus, to win, he must be able to position himself correctly and time his moves wisely.

It wasn't long before Link inserted himself and the two took to the dueling stances. This involved them looking at each other face to face, hands on their hips, legs widespread in firm positions and their bodies leaning over. They would skip side to side, before rushing at each other (termed "headbutting"), though being sure maintain their motions in keeping with the dance. The winner was he who could first flank the other successfully. Unfortunately for Rusl, Link excelled in physical competition - especially anything combative - and Link made himself the victor of this confrontation. He skipped to his prize, who had remained on her own, occupied in dance as well. Taking her up, it was then his turn to attempt his three spins as Rusl stalked him attentively.

The dance continued like this for some minutes. Zelda, who had never before seen this dance, could not keep from smiling. Its absolute ridiculousness entertained her greatly, though she found it very endearing as well. As silly as the dance was, however, she had to note the admirable skill with which Link moved himself (and Telma for that matter). She would have never guessed that the stern, though boyish, warrior she had first known would be capable of such mastery over gentle skills like this.

To little surprise, Link eventually won the duel. Rusl put up a good fight, however, having been performing the dance many more years than Link. He bowed to Link, "Take her. She's yours." Link bowed in return.

As Telma turned into Link, she questioned aloud, "Are all Ordonian women treated this possessively? That is, as if cattle?"

Rusl laughed as he returned to his seat, "No, though some better than others."

The reply went unnoticed by all except Link. In his mind, it burned him as a brand. There it lay marked, the reminder of his shame and cruelty smoldering in his thinking. Rusl did not strike at him with that blow for the dance. Link knew him too well to believe he would be so petty. Rusl needed to remind him, for he should not forget.

Doing his best to shake it off, Link called to Auru, "The Fountainhead."

This request was decidedly of a different vein from the last two dances. The song he called for was very much of the city and the tune was designed for the local Three Step dance - so named for it's basic movements of three steps and then a slide. As the music began, a grounded and melodic tune, Link led Telma with much more fancy than the previous dances had allowed. Telma too, now in a dance more familiar to her (one she had taught Link, in fact), did not deny herself the numerous opportunities for embellishments the dance allowed left room for.

Zelda still looked on, more intently than she was aware. 'He really can be quite debonair if he wants to,' she realized, surprised given his loudness earlier. Zelda was quite used to graceful men, almost repelled by them, but confidence and ability accompanied with kindness was something she still appreciated. It was that last factor that was so often missing in those who possessed the other two, but this was not the case with Link, she decided. She caught herself, 'What is this nonsense? Why do I go on like this?' Her mind moved quickly, as if evading something. 'He's quite self-centered, isn't he," she settled on.

Link's finishing flourish was right on time, he being accustomed to Auru's method of playing. The dance now ended, Telma, her face entirely flushed, let out with exhaustion, "I must rest boys. You have worn me out with your games." She and Link returned to the table where there again commenced those jovial conversations.

The night wore on this manner and, in an hour's time, Zelda conceded she must depart. The table expressed much reluctance, but did not stop her. Their bowing was low as she and her silent companion exited into the night.

-

Outside, Zelda fell to thinking. Her head was bent low as she passed those citizens still awake and active along the main, lamp-lit avenues, back towards the castle. Doubtless, her appearance gathered looks and hushed whispers, but there was no one who could know it was her. But these things did not come to her mind. No, her thoughts rested on the Adventurer's Guild. A part of her was concerned with business. Would they succeed in the task set to them? Were they in more danger than she anticipated? But more of her thinking was directed to they themselves. That is, the adventurers. Though she had known Auru for many years, she was generally unacquainted with the rest. 'I will remedy this,' she resolved. Curiously, for the briefest of moments an image of Link holding a large piece of meat in one hand and a wine glass in the other, a gigantic smile on his face, came to her. She blinked and shook her head.


End file.
